Note: I usually won't update this fast, but since I have this written already, might as well post.


ii.

"The world is built by killers. So you better get used to looking at them."

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In my defense, in my admittedly weak defense, one does not usually assume that they have been reborn into a fictional world. And there weren't that many clues. My father, after all, never once said "Kazekage," which might have clued me in sooner. He just refers to him "Rasa-sama." And Rio doesn't talk to me about anything of import, and my mother just doesn't talk to me period, and … those are really the only people I ever interact with. And all the history books I've read that discuss shinobi and whatnot, I just assumed they meant regular ninjas. Like, without the whole Naruto aspect. Plus, I don't really see ninja around ever. In the anime it seemed like shinobi just strolled around town quite often, but maybe that's just Konoha. Or maybe I just don't go to areas where they would be many of them; children's parks, I imagine, are not a fan favorite for ninjas.

As for living in Sunagakure, whose name I definitely should have recognized — I have no excuse. I'm just dumb. But man, everything makes so much sense now. My "energy" is just plain old chakra, and all the stuff my father talked about upholding the family honor meant he wants me to become a ninja. And also, a Suna councilmember.

"This is very weird," I say into my pillow. The anime that I used to watch while blitzed, or running on my treadmill, or on adultswim when I was 12, is now the world I'm living in. So fucking weird.

Also, let it be noted, totally fucking sweet.

"I'm going to become a ninja," I whisper in awe. I sit up abruptly in bed, resolve coiling in my gut alongside my chakra. "I'm going to be a badass fucking ninja."

I stay up the rest of the night, planning the course I'll take to domination.

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Due to my late night enthusiasm, I sleep through the morning. So the next afternoon, I begin my plan. I eat a healthy snack and then go out to the backyard to do some strength and flexibility exercises. In my past life, I was well-acquainted with working out and the general state of athleticism due to my devotion to a number of sports teams, so I have the knowledge and discipline to create a physical regimen for myself. Obviously, I'm not planning to do heavy lifting or anything as a 5-year-old (because I'm pretty sure that has the potential to be very damaging), but it's good to get a head start on being physically fit. Stretching, too, I'm focusing on. I was incredibly stiff before.

As I jog laps around the backyard, Rio comes out with a glass of iced tea.

"Don't tire yourself out, Kazuo-dono," she says. "Take a break?"

Lady, you're great and all, but this guy's got some ninja training to do. I keep jogging. After a few minutes, Rio sighs, sets the tea on a patio table and goes inside again.

Post-exercise is meditation time. It's a cooldown to the cooldown, of sorts, and the audible thump of my heart helps me track the chakra flowing through my vein-tenketsu things. Once my breathing has evened out, I practice sticking rocks to my skin. Chakra control, fuckers. This shit is easy. All I have to do is concentrate the smallest bit of energy to an area and bam. Gravity defier. Isaac Newton is my bitch.

This gets me thinking: Why is it that the natural state of chakra is "sticky"? Or am I subconsciously attributing an adhesive quality to it? If so, does that mean I could attribute different qualities? Have I already? The idea of reinforcing muscle strength with chakra could just be attributing "physical strength" to the chakra, so that it enhances my existing capability. Is that how people breathe fire in Naruto? You just attribute a fiery quality to that chakra? But it seems like the various elements come more easily to some than others. So some people are more attuned to certain attributes, while generic attributes are accessible to all… But didn't that one slug lady have super strength, yet almost no one else did the same thing? No, wait, they would have to to some extent. Otherwise, how can ninja so easily leap three stories in the air.

Ugh. This is exhausting.

"Kazuo-dono, dinner is ready," Rio calls from the kitchen.

Perfect timing, Rio. I need a break from all this thinking.

We eat together at the needlessly large dining table. Converse to the language we speak, Suna's food is not really Japanese; it more resembles a blend of Indian and Persian food, with the exception of Japanese desserts. Yeah, I don't get it either. I also don't get the racial makeup of this place; Gaara and his family seem to be white, maybe a quarter East Asian, while many others have more Middle Eastern features. No one is straight up Japanese. I myself am an adorable, dark-skinned cross between some East Asian and Indian, maybe Arabian. Which makes sense, since my mother is very brown and my father is faintly Chinese.

"You're working very hard today," Rio comments. She's a blonde woman with a pretty face, even in her middle age. Physically, she resembles my original mother quite a bit.

"Mmf mm," I say, mouth full of rice. I chew vigorously, swallow, and take a swig of water. "That's correct, Rio-san. No pain, no gain."

Rio takes a dainty bite of her meal. She seems to be steeling herself. After some hesitation, she asks, "Do you feel unsafe because of yesterday? Is that why you're training?"

Ah, yes. Our fateful meeting with … um, actually, I don't remember his name. Began with a G, I think.

"That must be it," I say, seeing this as an easy explanation for my behavior. "It's good to be strong enough to protect myself."

"Of course. And I'm sure your father will be very pleased at your interest in training." Rio smiles kindly. "I just don't want you to be scared. You know you're very safe, right? As long as you stay away from that monster."

"Monster? What's wrong with him, Rio-san?" I play innocent.

"There's a demon sealed inside of him, and it took over the boy's soul. There's nothing left but that demon now," Rio says. It's a little disturbing, how gently she says it. How absolutely she believes in it. "He's a soulless monster, and a killer. Stay away."

Christ. This poor fucking kid. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. Or something to that extent.

"Okay, Rio-san. One last question, though. What's his name?"

"Monsters don't deserve names," Rio says.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. No, wait, I don't. I just do it. "Okay, but really. What's his name?" Seriously, woman, spit it out.

"Gaara. Kazekage-sama's son."

Oh, right, I remember now. Gaara of the Desert. The insane jinchuriki of the Ichibi, Shukaku, who terrorizes Suna's populace to the point that his own father attempts to assassinate him multiple times. The village's greatest weapon gone horribly wrong. What was the problem again? A fucked-up seal?

"Hm. Thanks for lunch, Rio-san. I'm going to go to my room and study now."

A seal, huh?

"Ah, Rio-san. Do we have any books on fuinjutsu?"

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As the universe would happen to have it, fuinjutsu is absurdly complicated. Sealing is some calculus, quantum mechanics, string theory and other fancy-sounding complicated topics shit. I could barely comprehend the book Rio-san provided me: An Introduction to the Art of Sealing. Admittedly, I am 5. Also admittedly, I am an 18-year-old stuck in a 5-year-old's body. So I'm not really gonna cut myself any slack here.

Despite my earlier condemnation of books and the general pastime of reading, I've now come to terms with the fact that I have a lot of studying in store for me. There's an infinite amount I don't know about chakra, and I want to be sure I'm using it correctly. I also want to find out the details of its other functions: ninjutsu, genjutsu, etc. And I'm assuming those have more theory behind them than just "make energy sticky."

I pluck a cake pop into my mouth, chewing contemplatively. So glad those exist here.

"Rio-san. Is there anyone we can hire to tutor me?" I say.

Rio looks hurt.

"Like a ninja tutor, I mean. You're great for the other stuff," I elaborate. She instructs me in history, language, maths, and bits of fundamental biological science. Although, I'm not sure Rio can teach me calculus once we've moved past the Algebra I material we're currently speeding through. This math thing is a lot easier when you've already spent a year on it. But yeah, I have serious doubts about my ability to pick up calculus. Whenever I caught a glimpse of all those Calc III kids' homework, it was just a jumble of Greek letters and symbols and graphs. Who invented that shit, anyway? For that matter, did calculus even exist in this universe? I feel like ninjas wouldn't have any practical use for it.

"A ninja? I suppose your father could hire a chunin or jonin to mentor you. Is there any specialized area you're interested in?" Rio says thoughtfully. "We have a few kenjutsu specialists. Or we could request a medical-nin. Ah, and of course Chiyo-sama is the resident fuinjutsu expert."

"Chiyo-sama?" That sounds familiar. "Who's that?"

"I'm surprised your father hasn't told you. Her and her brother Ebizo-sama make up the Honored Siblings, two of the wisest shinobi Suna has ever produced." A worshipful glint shines in Rio's green eyes. "Aside from your father, of course."

I forgot to mention Rio's utterly disgusting crush on my dick of a dad. She does a terrible job of hiding it; whenever he walks into the room, all her body language screams "take me!" — ick.

"I want Chiyo-sama, then. If she's the only one who knows fuinjutsu," I say.

"Ah, her and her brother are no longer involved in village affairs, Kazuo-dono. I don't know if she'll be available to tutor you," Rio backtracks.

"Asking couldn't hurt though," I persist. "Will my father be at breakfast tomorrow? I'll talk to him then."

Rio nods, resigned to my obstinacy. "He will. Your mother, too, is returning from her trip to Takigakure later tonight."

Yippee. A loving family meal to look forward to.

"Now, Kazuo-dono, have you finished your maths homework yet?"

"Yeah, yeah, here it is." I slide the worksheet over to her. The single-variable calculations we're on are a breeze. I've considered slowing down the rate at which I "learn" things, but I think I would die of boredom. At this point, I'd much rather be actually learning trigonometry, which I struggled with in high school, than doing pointless basic equations.

Rio-san goes through and marks my homework with a red pen. A weird thing about this universe is that it is at once very old-fashioned and modern. Certain inventions, like ballpoint pens and walkie-talkies, exist, while other technology is completely unheard of.

"Just one wrong this time," Rio says proudly. "You're a young genius, Kazuo-dono. It's no wonder your father is always boasting about you to the other council members."

"Is he?" That's a surprise. I lowkey thought the dude hated me.

"Oh yes. Haven't you heard them talking during dinner parties? They're all quite impressed with you."

I shrug and move onto a multiple choice history quiz. "Can't say I really listen to them. They're boring."

"Kazuo-dono," Rio says admonishingly.

"What? You know it's true."

"If you're going to be a council member like your father, you'll have to learn to speak a bit more tactfully."

"I thought you just had to be a really good ninja. Who needs tact?" I snort. Tact is for pussies and people who respect authority, i.e. still pussies.

"Politics involves far more than that," Rio says, but her tone lets me know she's already given up on the argument.

"Sure, whatever." I hand her the history quiz, having completed it in under two minutes. The work she gives me is ridiculously easy for my 18-year-old mind. "Here, Rio-san, I'm finished. Can I go outside now?"

"It's dark, Kazuo-dono. And I thought you wanted to read more about sealing."

"Too difficult to learn on my own." I give her a winning smile. "Can I please go outside? Just for a little while. I'll stay in the front yard."

Rio sighs. "Alright. Don't wander off. I'll be down in a few minutes, once I finish grading and cleaning up."

"Thanks, Rio-san." I flounce over to the door. "And don't bother grading — I got everything right."

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I do make a semblance of an attempt to stay in the front yard. For about 30 seconds. But now that I'm aware I'm in the Naruto world, I want to explore this place, maybe see a ninja with my own two eyes. So I stroll leisurely toward the central part of town, where there's bound to be the hustle and bustle of evening in the marketplace and restaurants. Ninjas have to eat, right?

Okay, so, this is a pretty stupid decision. A pretty 5-year-old boy wandering the streets alone at night is never a good idea. But with my chakra-charged super strength, I feel semi-equipped to defend myself against ordinary civilian kidnappers, should they exist in this ninja-saturated city, and the actual ninja of this village probably aren't going to go about committing crimes. As for the threat of Gaara, the law of averages, or some other statistical rule, means I'm unlikely to run into him again so soon in a city the size of … however big this place is. Pretty big, I'm hoping.

So off I go, cheerily trotting along the dusty streets of Suna. There's a mild sandstorm brewing in the air, and I pull my white shirt over my nose to shield myself from the tiny grains flittering about. Many others around me have more effective face masks, sporting the white hoods of stereotypical desert travellers lugging camels around. I have one of those, too, but not the foresight to bring it with me. Oh well.

It's dark out, and the air is chilly. The sky, free of mankind's industrial pollution, is a sea of speckled, luminous white across a broad stroke of deep purple. Even after five years of living in this world, it's still a sight to see.

Just kidding. I'm pretty damn desensitized to that sparkly shit. After a brief glance upward at the moon, I return my gaze to the beautiful architecture of Sunagakure.

In case you didn't catch it, that was sarcastic. This city is ugly as fuck; the texture of the buildings looks like someone shit all over an avocado skin and then left it out to dry for 20 years. The buildings themselves are all various gross lumps. Whoever designed them is really bad at shaping cylinders. Or rectangles. Or any other normal prism. Suna is like one of those ancient villages made of crappy adobe houses, only the size of everything is multiplied by 10. The only remotely nice-looking building is the greenhouse, made of glass, and only medical-nin are allowed inside there. It's also presumably the only building in this hellhole that has air conditioning. The rest of us just have to suffer the horrid desert heat.

"Hey kid, what are you doing out at night all by yourself?" A navy-haired man with a real suspicious goatee steps out of the shadows, directly blocking my path. We're in a residential block, so I'm not too worried even though we're only the two people on the street. Someone is bound to investigate if he wants in my no-no zone and I start screaming bloody murder.

"Mind your own business, weirdo," I say, taking a deliberate step back. "What are you doing creeping on little boys?"

The man fixes me with a stern look, unamused. "I'm a shinobi. I'm merely on patrol, looking out for the citizens of this village. And that includes idiot little boys who wander the streets alone at night."

I give him a quick once-over: Indeed, he's sporting a Suna headband around his left bicep and a shuriken pouch at his hip. Seems legit. So, my first encounter with a ninja (other than my father). Sign me the fuck up.

"Ah, is that so? Well, it's an honor to meet you then, shinobi-san." I offer my brightest, cutest smile. "I meant no offense."

"Right," he says, clearly unimpressed by my new sycophantic demeanor. "I'm going to take you home, then. There is a curfew to abide by."

"Really? I didn't know. What time is that? And why does a ninja village have a curfew? Is the curfew just for minors? What constitutes a minor?" I ask, rapid-fire.

"9:00 p.m. There are dangers, even in a ninja village, and particularly with the presence of Suna's jinchuriki. Curfew applies only to minors, the formal definition of such being persons under the age of 18 with the exception of ninja, who are for the most part considered legal adults," he answers without missing a beat. "Is that all?"

"I guess. For now," I relent. "I'll go home now."

"I'll escort you."

"Ooh, like an unofficial mission." We begin walking back in the direction of my house. It's more of an estate, really, since my mother owns a major trading company and can afford an extravagantly large plot of land. Even if it's pointless, since it's just more dirt.

"So, shinobi-san, do you make a habit of escorting every kid you find on the street home?" I say after a few moments.

He remains stoic and silent. I sigh. "Fine. I'll just answer my own question. You couldn't possibly do that; it'd be a waste of time if you really were out on patrol. So either there's a real threat out here tonight, or you know who my parents are. Which one is it?"

The man makes a brief, acknowledging sound. "You're rather smart for your age. It seems the rumors of the Suzukis' son are true." The way he speaks is very matter-of-fact, but not quite cold. It's a bit nice to listen to.

"Rumors? How exciting. I'm a celebrity," I say dryly. It actually is pretty exciting. Being known as a budding genius to the village's most powerful men and even a portion of the ninja populace is fucking rad. And if my reputation is due to a bit of reincarnation-style cheating, who's counting?

We walk on, once more in silence. I occasionally sneak glimpses of the ninja's face, trying to remember if he was an important canon character. Or just a canon character at all. It seems his features are faintly familiar, but it could definitely be me projecting my hopes of meeting someone of significance in the Naruto universe. After a minute of thinking (so sue me, I'm not very patient), I just come right out and ask him.

"Ne, shinobi-san, what's your name?"

Unfortunately, that's when he decides to pick me up, slap a hand over my mouth and go leaping up on a rooftop. I flail wildly in his arms, shrieks muffled by his palm, suddenly terrified that I'm about to be kidnapped and/or raped. Oh god, why did I think that ninja were all good guys? They're murderers, for God's sake. I'm a fucking dumbass.

"Hnnh mm mmf," I scream.

"Quiet," he hisses. "Stay still, and don't make another sound."

His tone is so intense that I immediately obey. The two of us stay there, frozen, lurking in the shadow of a structure on the roof. After a few moments, he leans around the corner of the misshapen clay dome (I really have no idea what it is) to peer at a scene going on in the street. It occurs to me that we're hiding, and I'm not going to be kidnapped. On the other hand, I very well might die instead.

Because standing in the dusty Suna street with murderous tendrils of sand surrounding him is none other than Gaara. And he's looking right at us.

Well, shit. Statistics can kiss my fucking ass.


End note: Yura actually is a canon character, though Kazuo wouldn't know that since he's not super significant. Look him up only if you want potential spoilers! Thanks for reading.